The Marriage of Hatred and Sorrow
by NickelS
Summary: Movie fic. The title is based on the art book illustration where Sora and Folken are subtitled "Sorrow" and "Hate" respectively. Various scenes exploring their precarious relationship.
1. Scene One: Dinner and a Memory

Disclaimer: Folken, Sora, and Escaflowne the Movie: A Girl in Gaia are property of Sunrise and Bandai Visual/Entertainment. Poor writing for fan purposes only.

I wanted Folken/Sora WaFF, but Folken being Folken, this is what I got instead... -_-;

* * *

Scene One

The room was made for larger purposes than what it was presently being used for. The ceiling was too high to promote intimate conversation and too low to inspire awe. It housed bluish light and empty sound smothering the man sitting at the table and the pale woman that sat across from him. A meal was taking place, but nothing else was shared between them besides the environment. Movement was not paramount and the chink of the dinnerware seemed subdued.

As the man habitually did during his meals, he played a solitary game of strategy. A square wooden board with gridlines drawn across its surface and dotted by black and white stones was set before him. Most of his food had already been consumed hastily and nearly all of his attention now lay focused on the pattern of stones. In any other case, it was a game meant for two individuals, but both occupants in the room knew that there was no interest from either party in the prospect of the woman playing as his adversary.

The young woman was eating at a more sedate pace, her mind strictly blank in an effort to prevent oft-occurring intrusive thoughts, both the benign and the disturbing. She watched the man occasionally, but never in a manner to cause interruption. Only the muted sounds of her utensils against her plate escaped to his deaf ears.

Conversely, it was an extended silence and an unprecedented stillness that finally caused his left hand to halt, hovering above a white stone. He glanced up.

Sora sat frozen and looking only frailly more alive than a statue carved of white marble. One of her hands rested on the edge of the table. Her eyes were closed, useless to the vision engulfing her mind. Folken removed the stone from the board and sat straighter, watching her expectantly. He noted the slight irregularity in the seer's exhaling and inhaling, inhaling and exhaling .

The vision broke, collapsing the rigidity of her frame and expanding Folken's diaphragm.

Sora was lost for a moment in transition, the pace of her breathing increasing, her widened eyes blinking but not seeing, feeling the initial panic of a child torn from his mother. Then she felt the kiss of the Dragon Power settle against the centre of her forehead and her senses flowed outward from that point until she was aware of her body once more, conscious of where and when she was. She looked across the table to Folken, but his expression was only gently blank shifting to faintly quizzical.

Sora's gaze flickered away briefly before meeting his again and softly said, "A memory." From her tone it was clear that she did not intend to provide further detail.

Folken refused to stop staring for a while, drinking in every nuance of her sorrowful expression. In truth, he did not really care if she told him what she saw as long as it did not affect his plans in any significant way. It might have bothered him more to never know the things that she did not tell him, but there were other, grander problems for him to focus on. His gaze moved up and out of the sky crystallized in her eyes to the space between the two markings on her forehead. He withdrew his power before turning back to the game board.

When she felt Folken disperse the miniature tornado on her brow, Sora almost wished he had not. Being more than difficult to live with, he was nevertheless more attentive, perhaps even complaisant, at certain times more than others. She had noticed that those times tended to be before he commenced a crucial battle in a campaign and after he returned from an extended absence from the floating fortress. She assumed it was because he was brooding least during those periods when the war was going through major changes. During those times his excited mind found different ways to distract him from himself. At present, he was due to return to the war front within the week.

Sora resumed her interrupted dinner, chewing slowly in silence again. After finishing, she ventured to stare at Folken openly for several long moments. He remained obliviously absorbed.

"Lord Folken?" The way she spoke took even the harshness out of his name and transposed it into mellow euphony.

After a pause, he made the barest noise of acknowledgement.

Feeling slightly silly she said, "Lord Folken, you have a beautiful name. Tell me why you chose it?"

He deliberately finished placing a black stone on an intersection of lines before giving her a sidelong glare. "You're such a romantic, he sniffed dismissively."

Sora felt her heart sink, then wondered how much farther it had to go before it reached the cold floor. It was obvious that she was not going to get a better response from him that night.

He studiously ignored her when she excused herself and left the hall. Mostly he was irritated, but a small part of him felt the receding shuffle of her dress scrape away at his mind.

The scraping revealed something unexpected.

_Dune watched his father's new wife through his pale lashes, stealing wary glances at her between periods of replacing his bowl on the table. Her gentle demeanour and pleasant features belied the pain she indirectly caused the prince. Her black hair was long, flowing straight, and cropped in the exact manner that Dune's mother had worn hers. She ate daintily even when compared to the young boy. _

_ With his bowl to his mouth, Dune's gaze flew left to the man sitting across from the woman, her husband and Dune's father, the Dragon King. _

_From a swift survey, the king gave off the impression of solid silence. Even eating, his movements were controlled, powerful. Dune felt the inklings of something that might have been resentment, although he did not know what it was yet. _

_The adults talked rarely, and this meal was not unlike many others, rife with soundlessness. However, when Dune had finished his bowl of rice, a spontaneous urge caused him to break the calm. _

_ Father, he began earnestly. When the king turned slightly towards him, he continued, It is said that I was named after a Dragon King of ancient times. _

_His father's expression remained stoic, appraising. _

_Dune fought the need to swallow. Tell me of this king and his rule? _

_After a brief pause, the king's voice rolled out like a distant storm. How old are you, Dune? _

_The prince frowned at the unforeseen query. Nine. _

_ Nine, and you do not know of the man who is your namesake? The corners of the Dragon King's mouth pulled back and downwards a little. What do you have tutors for? _

Folken ceased the swirling column of air around him. He opened his right hand, arm resting on the table, and flicked the two stones, one of each colour, from his palm to skitter across the dull surface along with the rest of the scattered pieces. The Black Dragon bitterly recalled having pored over all the history texts his tutors could find for him, alone, but the answers found on archived scrolls did not diminish his father's callousness.

The beginnings of a sneer found its way to his expression and he found himself glaring at the empty chair. "A memory?" Emptiness did not respond so he stood and left briskly, intending to leave the memory with it.

* * *

***  
Go is the game I associate with genius. Potentially more to come. I just felt the need to write... something/anything. Suggestions for the next scene?


	2. Abschnitt Zwei: I'd hold open your eyes

February 2004

Disclaimer: Folken, Sora, and Escaflowne the Movie: A Girl in Gaia are property of Sunrise and Bandai Visual/Entertainment. Names of Elder Council members my own. 'Chadon' belongs to G ( id = euphorbic).

Author's Notes: This chapter takes place well before Scene 1. I'm writing these things all over the place. The chapter timeline is going to be 2, 1, 3.

G, since I couldn't write the "bedroom scene" in time for the first anniversary of our email/idea exchange, please excuse the horrid sentence down near the bottom. XE I'm awful. Someone scrub my brain _now_.

* * *

_"If I were your appendages,  
I'd hold open your eyes so you would see  
that all of us are heaven sent"_

- Incubus, "Megalomaniac"

* * *

Abschnitt Zwei

* * *

Folken took his seat near one end of the large table after formally greeting the rest of the Black Dragon Clan's Elder Council. A brief lull of curious stares left no doubt that they were surprised at his presence. The Council's Speaker, a sturdy but aged man with ruddy drooping features, decided to launch what was on nearly every man's mind.

"So rarely do you grace us with your presence, Lord Folken, that some might be inclined to inquire what the occasion might be." The old man regarded the relatively young Dragon with a look of practiced banality.

While it was true that Folken had not joined a council meeting for no less than seven months, and had passed few more messengers with them, the Council seemed less concerned than he had expected. However, a quick survey of the faces around the table told him that no small number of them was probably quite aware of the extent to which his control of the military had grown. As of yet, it had not occurred to them to think of his well-oiled machine as an autonomous threat, but sooner or later, Folken knew he would have to dispose of the this wretched body of men before him.

"I was not aware," he frowned slightly, "we had to bring alibis to the table, Lord Groma."

"You appear to bring one with you anyway," another member countered.

"I don't see what you mean." Folken was careful to convert his glare on the man into a look of perplexity, but the other seemed more intent on scrutinizing the military commander's shock of hair.

The man seated across from him leaned forward slightly to speak: "Twelve moons ago, you listed the complete destruction of Nale, though we saw it of no purpose." He paused, succeeding in irritating Folken. "We hope that the Clan has regained some recompense from such a manoeuvre."

"I have already had my generals relay detailed reports on our expenditures and gains."

"Not on your personal gains, surely," the first elder responded.

_Sooner rather than later_, Folken decided. "Whatever might help me better serve the Clan." He tensed, waiting for them to state their claim.

"Even now, the High Priest's granddaughter still lives," suggested Groma,"under your care."

"She has her uses," the young dragon responded slowly, loathe to reveal Sora's abilities. He had no doubt that such abilities would earn the covetous schemes of a few men at the table, and he would not allow that. To his surprise, a few of the others chuckled.

"She must be extraordinary if you have let her live this long."

"Indeed, she must be quite a sight."

"Don't get too distracted with your prize now," one of them chided like a father, as if Folken needed a father to tell him something like that. His own had been lecherous enough at an age greater than the combined ages of those seated at the table.

The men around him mistook Folken's brief scowl for something other than his anger at having been led off the cliff like a blind man. Their assuming nature would prove fatal and the corners of his mouth quirked upward at that thought. He decided it was in his best interest to lead _them_ on for a change.

"Perhaps, my lords, you will be fortunate enough to see my lady," _Before I kill you,_ "next time."

After the round of snickers died down, one whose name Folken recalled as Dequemus asked, "Nale guarded the secret to the weapon you were seeking. Has the lady provided you with any further information about the ancient armour?" It was difficult to tell whether his tone was tilted with eagerness or cunning.

"The High Priest disclosed much before he was executed," Folken lied, the smirk on his face stretching just a little further. _Fools_.

* * *

The guards on either side of the threshold gave Sora and her escort guards only a cursory look before pushing the tall narrow doors inwards. As they opened, a vast square room with slanted wooden walls was revealed. She stepped inside alone while the guards closed the door behind her. As she crossed slowly to the opposite end of the room, the massive work of steel there, depicting two symmetric dragons, seemed to shrink instead of grow larger. The closer she came to it, the less imposing it appeared compared to the seated man it provided a background for. The room was otherwise empty.

So far, this engagement was no different from any of the ones before. The silver-haired woman came within several metres of the Black Dragon before settling on her knees and bowing before him. Usually, she waited for a command that usually bore the form of a question, although recently he had come to expect her to deliver a report without prompting. However, this session would be different and even though she could not see what would come directly from it, Sora knew that this day would change the way she and Folken interacted.

After Nale was ruined and she had committed herself to him, she would kneel before him once every three days and tell him of what new visions she had seen throughout the interim. One month ago, he had broken the pattern by requesting that she attend him daily if his schedule permitted it. Only a day before, he had wanted to try something on a whim and the results were unexpected. The surprise affected him more than it did her. For the moment, he regarded her in silent study.

"Shall we begin as yesterday?" Sora's quiet words barely penetrated the room's stillness, rebounding back to her ears.

Folken nodded faintly, the almost tense expression on his face unwavering as he continued to analyze the young woman sitting several paces from his chair. Rarely could he read anything from her expression other than serene sadness when he bothered to really look at her. He was more concerned with the information she could provide him, and more recently, how she received that information. Understanding her abilities, and thus how he could use them, had developed into an exercise intriguing enough to spend an hour of his day on. Today, he decided, the prophet wore a strange air about her; he could see it surface in her eyes occasionally before fading away. What he did not understand was that it was curiosity trying to buck the heavy weight of sorrow in her.

Sora focused on making her voice as calming and musical as possible. "Close your eyes." She knew he was the sort of man who hated being told what to do and felt some solace in knowing that he did not accept this kind of speech from anyone else. She was likely the first in a long while.

Folken glared a moment longer before closing his eyes.

The prophet waited until she could hear his breathing begin to slow before continuing her instruction. "Try and focus on what you want to see."

"How can I," he growled without opening his eyes, "when I don't even know what it looks like?"

"That does not matter," Sora soothed. "Concentrate on the thought and the vision will follow." She paused briefly, closing her own eyes. "Are you ready?"

She felt his reply rush forward and press against her, setting her senses ablaze before she moved her focus beyond her physical body. Only a small tunnel of wind formed near her head, opening back towards him. Folken accustomed himself to the feel of Sora's strange power, hovering tightly around her like a veil over her body. The concentration was strongest around her head and it took him some effort to ignore the minutiae of her face that the Dragon sense was able to describe to him and instead draw from her power. After some moments of fumbling, he felt the Dragon Power fall through an empty wall and expand infinitely. Stark blackness swallowed him in a slow liquid spin.

Neither of them spoke or moved for minutes, waiting. Just before maddening nothingness could not contain his mind, straining to break with a flood of conscious thought, he saw.

_A slender well-muscled arm, adorning blue diamonds trailing from shoulder to bicep, stabbed a single-edged sword through air. The diamonds rippled as the arm swung back. _

Pieces of a scene flitted before Folken's vision.

_A boy, one who had barely reached manhood by the look of his thin, stretched physique, danced in a forest with his blade. Firm swishes made the air hiss in protest. The youth followed his sword with powerful, calculated steps: three forward, three back, two left, spin, two right._

The figure remained faceless, but he knew the practice formation and each step to it before he was shown it. At that age, he had been…

…_a bare back, scapulae shifting underneath flesh, void of any indication of the White Dragon Clan's ultimate heritage… _

Folken lost the vision so quickly he almost could not recall it. His eyes opened wide, affording him the view of Sora who had opened her eyes as well. "What happened?" he demanded immediately.

The woman only looked at him demurely and said, "You must not let your emotive thoughts overreact to what you see or they will drive out the vision. It is impossible to receive them that way." She looked down at her hands in her lap. "The connection collapsed also," she added.

The Black Dragon was suddenly aware of the awful throbbing of his head. "Why couldn't I see it?" he muttered angrily to himself.

Sora remained silent, unsure if his outburst was directed at her or not.

His tone was no less alarming for its level volume. "Instead I saw something useless that has already happened! A worthless vision."

_Already happened?_ she pondered. Then he did not realize who it was that he had seen. "It has not happened yet, Lord Folken. It was the near future you saw," Sora told him quickly.

"What did I see?" he snarled, aggravated by the unprecedented headache. Headaches sometimes developed after strenuous fighting, but he had never felt anything of this certain magnitude after having done nothing more than sit still for a fraction of an hour.

The prophet closed her eyes and searched the vision again. She knew who it was that they had seen although she had never seen him before, nor had Folken ever explicitly told her about his past. "The White Dragon," she proposed gently.

If his forehead had not been hurting him enough by simply existing, he would have exploded something, but after the initial spike of anger at the mention of the words 'White Dragon' Folken was pacified briefly with curiosity. "Van?" The name escaped him with such calmness that Sora's eyes widened in surprise. His head tilted back gradually in contemplation. "That's right," he continued in a frighteningly tranquil tone, "He should now be almost the same age as I was when I…" The words left unsaid sparked the hatred in him again, his mind whirling with memory and plotting.

Sora's hands gripped a fold in her dress tightly. "We can see no more today," she whispered to herself.

Unexpectedly, Folken heard her and faced downwards again, turning his attention back to her, the sharpness in his eyes touched with madness. He spoke rapidly, "Since you are more disposed to it, for now I will leave the seeing up to you until I have time to pursue this further, but there is one more test I need to make."

"Test?"

"An experiment. You said that only the Dragon's Power has ever been able to draw upon your own before," he said, as if that statement answered her question.

Without rising from his chair, he glowered in the direction of the door. Sora felt a wave pass over her head and heard the portal opening far behind her. She turned her head to see the guards beyond step back to allow a large figure move into the doorway. A golden-haired beast-man bowed but did not enter the room before stepping aside and ushering in a young soldier with silver hair. The guards deftly pulled the doors closed behind him. Sora faced front again while the stranger walked up. He stopped level with Sora but not close to her. He kneeled before his lord.

The Black Dragon took measure of the soldier. "Dilandau, I want to see how far you have progressed in the use of your new powers."

"Yes, Lord Folken."

The prophet glanced sideways and was surprised to see that the soldier was not a man, but an adolescent boy, one who appeared within the year of growing into his adult body. As if sensing her eyes on him, the youth's sharp gaze shifted quickly to her. Sora nearly recoiled at the feral streak she saw in him.

Without bothering to introduce them to each other, Folken commanded, "You two, face each other."

They obeyed, a distinctly devilish smile spreading across Dilandau's face as he wondered if this strange woman would make good sport, Sora wishing to be much farther away than four paces from this wild looking boy.

"Dilandau, picture in your mind Mount Chadon, you've seen it before. You will need to extend your magical power by following my seer's instructions. Sora, make him _see_."

Sora successfully ignored the uneasiness she felt by processing this new information. If the boy before her had magical abilities, then he too, was of the Dragon Clan and of a bloodline that endowed him with the Dragon Power. She noted that the smile had not faded from his expression as well as the unfamiliar feel of his Dragon Power beginning to pulse at his forehead. The instant she fixed her mind on him, she was absorbed by uncertainty again. A furtive glance at Folken did nothing to dispel the anticipating watchfulness he placed on her. She took a deep breath and suppressed the doubt.

"Close your eyes and think of the mountain and nothing else," she directed the boy.

Dilandau rolled his eyes before shutting them. He did not understand how Lord Folken was trying to test his new abilities or why this woman was allowed to give him orders. With his eyes closed, he waited impatiently for the next command, thinking about the biggest peak in the Chadon region.

"With your power, slowly reach out towards me." Sora cringed inwardly despite herself. "Do not focus on my physical body, but try and feel for my power with your own. You will find it easiest near my head."

A blast shot forward from the youth, but another one undercut it from an angle before it could reach the prophet, barely in time. She felt conflict very near to her face, her hair billowing with it, before it vanished off to the side.

"Not so hard," Folken snapped.

"Shh," Sora breathed through her teeth softly when the air returned. "Take your time."

There was a mumbled apology as the boy furrowed his brow and tried again. This time, he reached out much slower and touched her forehead. It disappeared almost as quickly as the first.

"Good," she said encouragingly, even though the doubt about the successfulness of their endeavour still lingered. "Try and sustain it next time, and tell me if you feel anything."

Once more, from a thoroughly scrunched up frustrated brow, Dilandau's Dragon Power blasted forth and held itself. Sora was afraid it might begin to drill into her forehead.

"I don't feel anything unusual," the boy said with insolent bewilderment.

"Do not struggle, let your instinct guide you," came the prophet's voice. "Can you see anything?"

"My eyes are closed," he growled.

"She meant," Folken interjected crossly, "do you see anything in your he-"

A pre-emptive shriek from Sora punctuated his last word before that too was brutally stopped by the discharge of force caused by the faltering of Dilandau's control. The blow she could not fully dodge or defend against knocked her to the floor, colourless hair spilling around her.

Dilandau opened his eyes. "Weak," he muttered under his breath at the sight of the woman sprawled on the floor.

Folken was on his feet, head pounding doubly with the headache and annoyance. After sensing that Sora was still alive, he turned and gave the weaker dragon-born a motionless slap. "Work on your technique," he barked. "Dismissed!"

The youth rubbed his cheek sulkily, but retreated in haste, more out of surprise at being struck than anything else. No one except the Black Dragon high commander was able to hit him without him sensing something coming first. A whirlwind surrounded his head as he loped backwards towards the door, never taking his narrowed eyes off Folken. He kicked the door with his heel and those outside let him exit quickly. Before they could close the entrance for themselves, Folken shoved them all back and banged the doors shut himself.

Reverberating air overpowered the sound of the Dragon striding forward to where Sora was just pushing herself up into a sitting position. He crouched next to her. The seer's hands wandered over her lowered head and face gently, long strands of hair swaying, falling over her arms. Her breathing was shaky.

"Are you all right?" Folken reached out and with a finger tilted her chin up so he could check her for signs of damage. It would not do to have his prophet injured and frightened; it might affect her work.

Sora's hands dropped away from her face in astonishment. It was the first time since he had destroyed Nale that he was physically so close to her, but it was the first time ever that he had expressed concern over her well-being. She wondered if this was the change that she had sensed earlier upon entering the room.

Folken scanned her face, avoiding the gleaming eyes that somehow disturbed him, and found signs of possible bruising but nothing broken. As he did so he was reminded of the comments the Elder Council had made the previous day. It had never occurred to him to consider her beauty very much before, but now he supposed that the old men were correct in at least one of their theories. He would have to hide her for a while.

Without waiting for a response from her he made his own conclusion: "You are fine." He released her and stood up.

Sora did not, in fact, feel fine. Her head hurt inside and out and she was sure that if he had not stilled her for a moment by touching her, she would be shaking. The shock Dilandau had given her caused a reaction of disgust and she was aware of the encroaching urge to vomit.

"How much more practice do you think he needs?" Folken asked, looking down at the top of her head.

The nausea abated at the sound of his voice but her disorientation did not. She shuddered and then lifted her head wearily to look up at him. She took a deep breath and steadied her voice. "Even if you could give us a thousand years, he would never be able to see anything. I felt it in the blast."

"I thought as much," he agreed sourly. "There was no subtlety to his power, and there is no time to waste waiting for him to get better at it."

"He is not capable of vision," she clarified.

He did not look impressed. "It is not surprising that he lacks the ability. His blood is not pure enough."

Sora turned away from him, facing forward. "Few are gifted with all of your talents, Lord Folken, even among the higher born," she said sadly before lowering her voice, "and now none are."

He acknowledged her reference with a thin smile. Now that he was certain that he was the only one capable of harnessing her ability, he somehow felt more confident about her loyalty. It did not mean that she was less valuable as a seer by herself, however, and he found his thoughts returning to the Elder Council. He despised having an unexpected triviality forced on him, especially one as mundane as the one he was about to put into practice. He stared longer down at the still woman sitting at his feet.

She had expected him to leave long before now, or at least make some sort of demand, but she could not surmise any reason as to why he remained standing wordlessly beside her. She did not dare look up or move until he did something. With this anxiety, a miniscule part of her felt relieved by his strong presence after the terrible exercise. At least he was not angry with her, she hoped.

"Follow."

The one command pulled her head up and back to see him already walking towards the exit. Sora was able to rise and straighten her robes without too much difficulty, but keeping up with his pace was harder. They ignored the guards at the door and proceeded in weaving their way about the multi-corridor complex, climbing several flights of stairs to the higher apartments. When they continued beyond the wing where she lived to an area she had never been, she gravely wondered what had brought about this sudden change in behaviour from him. She was not privy to know the details, but she did know that he had gone to see the Black Dragon Elder Council the day before. That was the only major turning point that she could think of since he had not seemed at all surprised with the results of their session.

The halls they now passed through were more decorative than functional, even more so than the room that they had been in. Finally, they reached an enormous doorway with another set of guards who turned to attention with synchronized diligence. These soldiers, Folken gave the slightest of glances before they too were shut out of sight by the closing doors behind him.

One more room beyond, and Folken came to a halt and faced her. They now stood in one of the outermost rooms of his living quarters, Sora realized. A furtive cast at her new surroundings melted into a dark premonition.

_Folken made love much the same way he made war: relentless, efficient without excess, and when it was over the emotional devastation was hers to suffer. _

Sora shied away from the disturbing image of their warring bodies.

The Black Dragon did not appear to notice the flush of horror spreading across her face.

"The Elder Council has assumed you have the dubious honour of being my concubine," he stated flatly, without looking at her.

"I see," she responded coolly, repossessing her composure.

It was not something either of them had aspired for her to become. Sora could only feel the walls closing tighter around her, though most of them were paned glass offering stunning vistas of the clouds: mists that she might never soar among again, save only when she closed her eyes. Conversely, she had been promoted, in a bizarre fashion. The manner in which it took form did not bother her greatly; it was not an unusual development for someone in her position, but she had not foreseen it. Strangely, Folken seemed to accept the change passively, but then, she realized he could not be bothered either way.

She tilted her head up to look directly at him but could not hold his dual-coloured stare. "Do you wish me to share your bed?" It was an honest question, one not offered with fear or bitterness, but resignation.

He remained uninterested. "No." Following a short pause, he added, equally truthful, "I would prefer that you did not, but as a safeguard, rooms among my own have been assigned to you."

Sora did not ask why she needed to be safeguarded. He could not care enough about her safety to make such a drastic move on his own. It could only mean that he felt a threat from the council's knowledge of her existence. His actions were as much to keep up appearances as it was to limit her exposure to the spying eyes of rivals.

She bowed low to him but remained standing instead of sinking to the floor as earlier. "Whatever your wish, Lord Folken."

* * *

***  
Gee, Folken, that's some proposal... '-_-  
The details and use of their powers are pretty much all extrapolation.  
Their emotions seem a little too familiar for being so early in their relationship, although Sora is hard to predict at this point.


	3. Third Vision: my pain, your love

March 2004

Disclaimer: Folken, Sora, and Escaflowne the Movie: A Girl in Gaia are property of Sunrise and Bandai Visual/Entertainment. Written entertainment for fan purposes only and no profit is being made from this (ha!) Original scenes and content are my own.

Author's Note: I decided Movie Folken doesn't deserve Naria and Eriya, so I gave them to Sora instead. =) Oh and this is wildly OOC borderline WaFF, but most certainly crap. Thank you for your indulgence.  


  


* * *

  
  
  
"Gentle wind. Calm ocean. True love. And abundant plains."  
-- Folken, "Vision", _Escaflowne Prologue 1: Earth_

  
Third Vision  
  
  
  


Four days had passed since he had returned from a three-month absence from the floating fortress to oversee the tail end of a siege. During those days, he had not had much time to wonder at the lack of Sora's presence since his arrival. On the second day he was disappointed with a messenger replying to his summons by stating that the seer was ill. Nonetheless, it was only on the fourth day that he sent for her again and was referred to a sorcerer, one of many that had vital purposes with regard to the stronghold's inhabitants.

"Weeks, you say?" Folken halted his progression down a corridor to look back over his shoulder at the shadow that discreetly trailed him. He tried to glare at the diminutive sorcerer, but failed to decide which one of the creature's four eyes to focus on. "She has never had a fit for longer than three days before, and certainly none so violent as you describe."

"_None that you know of_," the sorcerer agreed, its words not coming from the stitched mouth on its head. A constant guttural droning was the only aural sound the Black Dragon had ever heard any of the sorcerers make. "_It has built up… gradually. We do not know how… much worse her condition can get_."

Folken turned back around to face the thing fully. "Yet you have kept her under surveillance for all that time. What is your prognostic?" he demanded.

"_We do not know the permanence of… this dementia. Even though we… have treated clairvoyants before… her level is… greater than anything we have ever encountered_. _Treatments have been ineffective._"

The dragon scowled. "Explain."

The black-hooded thing bobbed up and down. "_We have tried… many methods, but none of them show any significant results, progressive or neutral… Physiological responses were poor. Sometimes, she appeared to improve but the randomness of her reactions… indicate they had almost …nothing to do with the treatments. It only made her condition worsen… She seems immune to our… ministrations… Even our metaphysicians could accomplish little. _"

"Metaphysicians?" he enquired, suddenly curious, "What did you try to do?"

The sorceror seemed to hesitate uneasily, the stumps of its limbs moving languidly through the air for a moment as if expressing helplessness.

"Well?"

"_We tried to put her to sleep… but we could not reach her mind… There were too many… layers and layers of imagery_. _If we …succeeded in moving beyond one, we would only be confronted with another… and another. We tried…_"

Folken analyzed the remark briefly. "She is shutting you out."

The sorcerer's bulbous head reared back slowly in amazement. "_Yes._"

Folken's eyes narrowed. "Then find a way to draw her out of there."

"_We cannot_,"said the sorcerer before continuing sagely, "_There was one recurring thought that we were able to perceive from the chaos… There is only one person that can reach her in such a state._" The thing bowed.

The Black Dragon exhaled forcefully through his nose, his upper lip curling back to reveal gritted teeth.

"Me."

  


* * *

At some point during the nameless hours of sleep he perceived her pathetically beautiful voice calling the single syllable of his name. It was only after he wandered out to the edges of sleep the second time that he made the dull conclusion that she was not actually with him. Remembering his earlier plans to see her, the Black Dragon cast sleep aside in a restless mood to follow her call.

Folken stepped into Sora's unlit bedchamber without bothering to announce his presence or closing the door to the side entrance through which he had come. Moonlight filtered in through the windows in the ceiling and wall, and even though it was unnecessary for the purpose of locating the bed, he ignited two of the blue-flamed lamps standing along the sides of the room. As he did this, he felt, rather than saw, a convulsion where she supposedly lay. Instinct told of more than one person - besides Sora and himself - present inside the room.

Blue shadows danced to life and retreated to the walls. At first, Folken did not understand what the light revealed. Upon closer analysis, the tangle of bare limbs resolved itself into three women sleeping in each other's embrace. Sora was luminous moonlight caught between tawny fur and spotted skin.

Before he could decide his next move, the tail of one of the cat women flicked, the movement catching his eye. The beast-woman lifted her head from where it had been resting against Sora's middle to eye him suspiciously. Almost at once, the other cat woman looked up as well and made a faint hissing sound. Like a dancer in front of a mirror, the twins carefully disengaged their limbs from each other and from around Sora and stepped forward to position themselves in a crouch between their sleeping mistress and the Black Dragon.

"Please do not disturb her, Lord Folken" the one on the left -with a silver tint to her colouring- purred softly.

"We have only just managed calming her to sleep," the other added, her voice so similar to her sister's that he would not have known the difference except that it came from the right.

He scowled, darkness gathering more about his face. "This has to end. Leave us."

Neither of the women moved a tensed muscle, watching him with intelligent refusal.

"Get out of my way." The blandness of his tone contrasted with the tight charge forming at his brow, but before he could release it, Sora stirred. The twins looked back over their shoulders at the small noise, ears and tails twitching.

The three watched as Sora shifted, gradually bracing her head and shoulders against a heap of bedding. Her usual mass of hair fell in the more controlled form of a large braid over her shoulder. Sleep still clung to her, her eyes remained closed and she was unconscious of her observers. Without further coercion from either Folken or Sora, the felines ducked their heads and disappeared from the dragon's sight, which was now set only on the prophet. With the obstruction gone, Folken shortened the space between them, releasing his previously gathered energy in a measured stream.

"Sora."

At his call Sora opened her eyes blearily to see an expanse of cerulean with white clouds overlapping the shadows of her room. Running green met the vastness of the heavens at the horizons. Foliage above and below obscured patches of grass at a lower depth as she lay cradled in the cleft of a giant branch and the trunk of the tree it belonged to. The wind brushed the grass into verdant waves; she breathed a peaceful sigh.

Folken was uncertain about what to expect. From what the sorcerer had said, she should not have woken so easily. The gaze she turned on him was steady as she looked up from where she lay and he noticed that there was no surprise at his presence followed by the wonder that she might have been expecting him.

The seer looked down from her place in the ancient tree to the black smudge of a man standing on the ground, the strangeness of him in this setting seeming to corrupt the space around him and blur his form into darkness. He was watching her intently; eyes of red and gold stood in sharp relief amidst the haze. Sora knew him on sight if not by feel. Leaning out a little, she reached her hand down to him -this earth-bound one- though he could not have reached her even if he jumped mightily, so tall was the tree.

"Folken-sama…"

Her plaintive tone and extended hand did little to move him. He did not withdraw but remained shortly out of the feeble reach of her raised hand. Thinking she had fully recovered stable consciousness, he asked: "What have you seen?"

It was as if he had struck her across the face, the instantaneous smear of pain and fear was evident in her eyes and quivering lips. "See?" she asked bewildered, immediately retracting her hand, memory, nightmares and vision flooding her fragile green retreat.

"No!" The cry was no more than a whisper as she raised her arms to ward off the sudden spate of flames that ate at the corners of her sight. Her tree was burning from the ground up, the now blackened sky meeting grey smoke and orange terror. Sora backed up against the ancient tree trunk but there was nowhere to go where the fire could not reach. She scrambled for higher footing but a dying limb cracked under her weight and she tumbled out of the tree with a shriek.

She moved too fast for Folken to decide what to do so his hand reached forward and grasped nothing as she fell backwards off the opposite side of the bed. The sudden drop was unsuccessful in disrupting her strange behaviour and she instinctively sidled away from the centre of the room and found her back to a wall. She folded up, knees to her chest, hands covering her eyes, appearing even smaller than usual.

"En varu nishai sehen…" she shook her head vehemently, muttering incoherently in the language of Nale.

Despite her best efforts, the fire continued to rage behind her eyelids along with the foot soldiers that began to appear with a burning hilltop castle as the background. Only a few fighting men were visible at first, but like water coming to a boil, her vision was soon filled with bursting glimpses of battling and dying soldiers. A man fell next to her, cut down by a faceless Black Dragon infantryman, the unfortunate victim's body bouncing just a little before the already blood-soaked sludge of the ground claimed him for its own. His killer moved on finding another nearby opponent to clash with. Sora saw the dying man gurgle and drool blood, his body trembling from the fatal wounds, his eyes glazing helpless to a gradual death. If he was lucky, he would be trampled, his neck twisting under someone's boot or his skull crushed by a passing horse. If not, shock would take him before the carrion fowl found him on the battleground.

Sora's slender frame shook uncontrollably, but not for weeping. She could no longer cry over such horror; her body would no longer allow it. Instead, she moaned an endless litany for the dead, half mad from fear and the physical agony of a migraine.

Before Folken could cross the room to her, Sora's two feline attendants darted into view again, kneeling next to her and drawing her into their consoling arms. The prophet did not seem to respond to their attention and remained curled tightly around herself.

Thousands upon thousands of crows darkened the pale grey twilight sky as they swirled their way –struggling flecks tugged and buffeted by the wind- across a bog. Cawing from countless throats and wing flutter created a cumulative din deafening to Sora. She covered her ears and hid her head as some fraction of their number alighted in thick outlines of black on the remains of a battlefield long-decayed jutting out of the mire.

Folken rounded the bed and glowered at the two women, peeved by their audacity to remain and at the fact that he had not noticed their non-compliance. "I told you to leave." 

"She needs comfort," the silver one said bluntly, her arms wrapped maternally around the distraught seer. The gold one was silent but the sharp look in her eyes matched her sister's attitude.

The low vibratory hum of the twins as they soothed their mistress with quiet words and gentle back rubbing agitated him. His fists clenched as a spark danced along his spine. His left foot slid sideways until both feet were planted shoulder-width apart. His right temple pulsed.

The scene changed before Sora again. This time, she was in a corridor of the floating fortress, black and blue tinting the environment not unlike the actuality of her room. She felt her back pressed awkwardly against the wall, confusion from the transition flowing seamlessly into intuitive alarm as a large hand clamped around her neck, the man the hand belonged to appearing afterward. She choked and thrashed in vain as his face only drew nearer. She tried to scream but no sound carried from her airless throat.

"Nae!!" It was a brief lapse in her susurrous mumbling and her limbs lashed out abruptly in a fit of struggling within the restricting hold of the cat-women. She knew nothing of who she was actually kicking and pushing against; the only desperate thought she had was of the person who could save her. 

He watched her scream, his jaw clenching from the pierced sensation of his ears. _What comfort is there for one who has seen every horror of this world?_ He closed his eyes and for an instant, the room was swallowed by the space of his forehead.

Sora froze, eyes widening, knowing her attacker was about to die in a manner grossly unproportionate even to his repulsive actions. Then came the rending blast.

She heard the soldier's last breath stripped from his mouth by the speed at which he was yanked away from her. Crumpling metal armour heralded the laceration and then explosion of flesh, flinging hot muscle, bits of bone and fluid outward in every direction away from her. The force of exsanguination splattered the far wall while crimson mist filled the air. She dropped into a huddle, arms over her head as meagre cover against the impending rain, but gravity found splashes and plops of red in mid-air as the mess impacted against the Dragon's power. The invisible surface was coloured into view slowly as the blood began to spread, revealing a dome-shaped area clear of gore that encompassed Sora and the dragon.

The blast had sent both cat-women flying in opposite directions. With lithe acrobatics, they flipped through the air and landed on their feet. One hand in front to regain balance and crouching low to the ground, they were ready to spring at Folken from their respective landing positions.

Sora peered cautiously up at Folken and the blood overhead. She could see the steam rising from the rapidly cooling fluid. What she saw appeared real enough and she could not escape what she saw. Conversely, the threatening hisses of beast-women did not complement the surrounding gore, and neither, perhaps, did this particular apparition of Folken standing before her, looking strangely quixotic. She felt the Dragon Power slide around the crown of her head. When it reached her ears, the otherwise inaudible sound of stealthy cat-feet was amplified for her perception, as was the growl of annoyance building at the back of Folken's throat.

The twins were just about to launch themselves, but stopped just in time when Sora gathered the remnants of her external consciousness and spoke out loud to them.

"Naria! Eryia!" she called before Folken could send out another flare that would bring the visible death into the reality her body resided in.

The twins checked their advancement obediently but did not relax their stances, waiting. For his part, the Black Dragon also hesitated at the surprising timbre of Sora's voice conveying the command that her initial words did not.

Her lovely voice was steady: "Do as your lord says. Please leave."

Eriya and Naria frowned at her, unconvinced, but nonetheless carefully began slinking towards the door in wordless compliance, eyes fixed on the man that would expel them. They obeyed only because she had told them to, not because the leader of the Black Dragon Clan had any influence in the persuasion. Over his shoulder, Folken watched them go, irritated but not exceptionally furious at his inability to govern them. As they were the most reliable candidates for Sora's personal bodyguards, he had never found fault with their devotion to her, but for their defiance he made a mental note to have them reassigned elsewhere. He flung the doors shut in their faces and secured the room against further intrusion.

He turned back to see Sora rising unsteadily to her feet, leaning heavily against the wall with one arm. "Have you regained your senses?"

His solicitousness was unsettling enough without the string of hallucinations lingering in her mind. She assessed him coolly from the corner of her eyes. He stood two paces away, wearing a sleeveless green shirt and dark wide-legged trousers indicating that he had been in his room sleeping. His expression was tepid, which put her in doubt.

"You…"

"Sora?"

The sound of his voice incited a fury that was dizzying as it was disgorged by her lucidness. The sound that came out of her throat was more terrifyingly shrill than from anything he had ever threatened to kill. Instinct overcame his surprise when she bridged the space between them and the edge of her left hand struck his collarbone. His left shot up to intercept the heel of her opposite palm aiming for his jaw. His pull on her arm was already enough to put her off balance and he froze the reflexive backhand to the head that would have, at the very least, knocked her unconscious.

Her voice was low with rage. "Why can you not see what is happening? I want it to stop." Heedless of his hold on her arm, she twisted her weight into another strike, which he turned aside without trouble. Her martial skill was more wild than poor but her strength meant little to him though his collar remained stinging for several minutes. With a turn of his wrist he seized her active arm, bringing it down to her side. He stepped forward to trap her other arm in front of her while his circled around her back to pull her closer. "Make it stop." She continued to push against his unyielding hold, reaching the point of yelling. "Leave me alone!"

"I won't," he grumbled, finding it easy to reflect her mood. Of all people, Sora did not usually rouse him to anger for she was one of few things worthy of his patience.

"I _hate_ you!"

Folken understood the words best in his own context but he was unable to rationalize an undercurrent of anxiety from hearing her say the words. The ability to see –and thereby partly control- destiny required an amount of lenience in expectation, but if Sora herself became volatile there was, perhaps, more than just his future that would be lost. The notion of his future rapidly consumed all consideration, turning his anxiety to introspective misery. He responded by tightening his arms around her to suppress the squirming. After a few more minutes of futile struggling, she finally wilted, her forehead falling to rest on his chest, her fists opening to bunch folds of his shirt. Only her sorrow remained.

"I hate you…" she breathed into the dark green fabric.

He sighed, "I hate me, too."

"You stupid, weak girl…"

He pulled back a little to frown down at her, but her face remained pressed against him.

"This vision is too cruel," she whispered.

"Vision?" he asked, thinking he finally understood what she raved against.

Carefully keeping her pinned with one arm, he moved his other hand to tilt her head back. Her eyes were unfocused as he suspected. He slid a rough palm along her cheek until his thumb covered one of the markings on her forehead. He told her, "I know you can feel this," as he focused his power on the space next to his thumb. Still blind, her lips parted to release a choked sound and her body spasmed once. To hold her head still he placed both hands against her temples using his thumbs as guides for the target of her forehead.

"Concentrate here," he directed her.

Beyond the storm that separated their brows he felt her shiver. Sora blinked several times, awareness creeping in gradually.

"Lord Folken?" she asked uncertainly, gripping his shirt even tighter.

"Sora," he began, not liking the doubt in her voice, "you need to focus." He released her head and placed his hands over hers to slowly uncurl her fingers. "Sing."

She opened her mouth, still adrift despite the continuing influence of the Dragon Power. "I cannot," she protested faintly, "I do not remember…"

He released her hands and stepped around to stand behind her. She began to turn with him, but he laid his hands on her shoulders. Bending closer to a pointed ear he commanded more urgently this time. "Sing."

  


* * *

Naria pressed her ear against the thick door that separated her from Sora's chamber. Her natural sense of hearing could pick up the sound of quiet voices even beyond the thick doors, but not what was being said. Her fingers were splayed across the cold surface while her body angled slightly to allow her ear the best position. From the corner of her eye she could see her sister sitting, her back to the door, a few steps away.

Eriya licked the fur on back of her wrist methodically. She had a harder time trying to calm herself enough for the hairs on the back of her neck to settle down. She was as concerned as her sister about their master, but she could still feel the ominous presence of the Dragon.

"Come away from there, sister," the golden-haired feline said resentfully, "There's nothing we can do now that _he_'s locked us out."

"We are Lady Sora's guards," the silver one replied cannily, "and so we shall guard her."

Eriya shifted her weight to one side and fingered the numerous metal ornaments dangling along the circumference of her belt. Singling out a specific golden rod, which, when combined with the matching one on her sister's belt, formed a key to the lock that secured the room currently under observation, she mused aloud. "Lady Sora doesn't need our help against him. She never has."

"True," Naria admitted, "but we'll stay out here until she says otherwise."

"Unless she goes with him," the other twin added dejectedly.

Just then, there was a long silence and Naria leaned closer against the door.

"I can't stand the way he makes her so sad," Eriya muttered angrily, her nails scratching against the floor.

"Hush!" her sister admonished, straining to hear something. 

When Sora's singing was loud enough to discern, Naria was forced to pull her head away as her sister slipped under her arm to slide between her body and the door. Eriya deftly nudged her sister in the side with her hip, but her sister quickly leaned forward and over her back, pressing her twin down to listen through the door again. Although she had only been able to hear occasional sounds of conversation before, Naria could hear the singing quite clearly.

"This is not…" Eriya whispered in hushed awe.

"…the one she taught us," Naria completed the thought.

"No words."

"Shhh."

The two listened quietly for a while, enthralled by the sound of Sora's voice. The wordless melody was unlike any song they had ever heard the prophet perform before. It began as if unsure, erratic, making strange dissonant leaps, but was no less captivating for it. The voice gradually gained strength. Despite being used to Sora's singing and the different qualities of her voice, the twins were chilled by the pure melancholy they heard.

"If he hurts her we'll kill him," Naria declared suddenly, turning away from the door to glance at her twin who looked up.

"She wouldn't let us; She loves him," Eriya pointed out, her lips pouting.

"I don't see why she should," the other replied pressing her ear to the door again.

The younger woman did the same. "I don't understand it either, sister."

They continued the diatribe like a single mind split between two bodies, conversing with itself.

"Maybe because he spared her life…"

"We wouldn't be able to kill him."

"We could give our lives trying."

"She saved ours…"

"She doesn't want to use us like everyone else does."

"She's kind to us."

"We love her for that, too."

"It's not the same with him, there's a difference."

"He didn't save her."

"But she still loves him," the gold one sighed.

"She _really_ loves him," the silver one purred.

"We'll kill him if he hurts her."

  


* * *

The last of her air diminished gradually in vibrato. Her head drooped as her mouth closed and her body sagged against his. Folken opened his eyes and found himself staring at the base of Sora's neck where the lip of her collar pulled away from her skin. As if feeling his gaze, she straightened slowly and turned her head sideways and up towards him, the silver braid draped over her shoulder coming to rest a little higher and obscuring his view. He looked up to meet her now clear gaze. Her demeanour had returned to her normal subdued manner.

He leaned forward, hands still cupped around her shoulders. "Better."

Sora turned away, but tilted her head back to lean against his chest. She sniffed bitterly, "This is a dream." As such, she felt none of the usual reservations when she reached back over her shoulder with her right hand to slip her fingers into his hair. She felt his head dip obligingly, the shorter hair passing beneath her hand.

A soft snort brushed her ear. "Don't be ridiculous."

Abruptly she dropped her hand, turned to face him and stepped backwards, finally admitting the full realization. He allowed her to go, hands returning to his sides.

"When did you return?" she asked, troubled that she did not know.

Finally receiving rational communication from her, he was content to continue a verbal conversation. The dragon's power ebbed. "Four days ago."

"Four?" she echoed numbly, genuinely shocked.

"The sorcerers told me you were not fully aware at the time, or much of the time before that either." Folken watched her eyes close and was struck with the thought that she could relapse at any moment. He had no idea how long he could hold her attention, or how much of his power he needed to concentrate on her. He began to feel uncomfortably drained.

Her eyes slowly opened, still clear, but very tired. They were lowered and showed that she had not slept soundly in weeks. "Forgive me, Lord Folken, for taking up your time."

"Will there be any more disturbances?" he asked brusquely, wanting nothing more than to rid them both of the inconvenience.

She looked deflated. "I assure you, no, unless I am left alone. Naria and Eriya will keep me company."

He knew as well as she did that the twins would be useless if she were overwhelmed again. "I think not." He stepped forward and slipped one arm under hers and around her back while the other reached behind her legs before lifting her off the floor, the weight of her body a burden made by weariness. For expediency, he carried her down the side corridor that led back to his room, since she was, if the preceding events were any indication, incapable of travel without either fleeing from or clinging to him.

Sora was mute for most of the journey. As the ceiling of the hallway opened into glass, she looked up at his face outlined against the night sky. She blinked. A shadow rose behind his shoulder, spreading over his head, wiping out a portion of stars before receding. It rose again and dropped again in slow repetition. She blinked, and for one sublime moment she felt the awe of his flight.

"Im te-yuni vemanos, Folken-sama," she whispered, not because she would receive a reciprocating claim, but because it was important for him to hear it, even if he did not understand it. He looked down briefly at her with almost considerate bemusement.

High Fanelian was not unknown to him. As far as he could tell, it was only a varying dialect from the ancient tongue of the White Dragon Clan he had studied as a child. Although he had been slightly intrigued by the coincidence when he had first learned she could speak it, he inherently denied further remembrance of the topic. The degradation of time had reduced his knowledge of the language. At best he could only comprehend individual words from her.

When he looked away again, she turned her face into his shirt and did not look up again until he stopped next to his bed. Folken placed her unceremoniously on it, the silence having reminded him of his interrupted rest. Sora released him reluctantly but relaxed instantly from the comforting familiarity of a bed that promised undisturbed sleep. She was ready to give herself over to it when he settled next to her, his elbow resting on one bent knee, the other leg still over the side of the bed. She sat up and moved closer but did not touch him.

Hunched over his leg, Folken regarded her solemnly while making another attempt before he stopped caring. "What have you seen?"

She shuddered, but could not look away. "Stop asking me."

Untroubled by her curt refusal, he persisted, "Why, what did you see?"

"It does not matter if I have seen anything," she dodged the question stubbornly. "I do not want to see it. I do not want to see anymore."

Her spirit made him drowsy. The Black Dragon reached out and gripped one of her shoulders. "Tomorrow you will tell me." He would prefer that she stopped talking if it were not about anything useful. He was certain she would eventually tell everything he needed to know, as she always did.

"The sky was clouded while you were gone," she said softly, her gaze travelling along the faint scars on his arm that were once the symbols of his original clan. The sorcerers had done a fine job removing them, though no one but Folken or herself could appreciate their achievement. "I saw everything, I saw nothing." Sora raised a finger to trace one of the blue diamonds that only she could still see.

He dropped his arm, satisfied. "Perhaps you will be gifted with more clarity now that you are feeling better."

The seer winced. "Never!" she whispered harshly. "Not tomorrow, not ever again. Stop asking. I do not want anymore visions, please."

He frowned at her. "Whether you want them or not, you cannot deny them."

"I cannot." She accepted sadly, but continued in desperation. "I beg you not to remind me. It's too awful. You may ignore it, but I can see it, I see it all the time. So much death, suffering, misery, the lot of it! You do not understand how horrible it is, this pain."

It was neither the pleading of her eyes nor the splendour of the hurt in her voice but the words themselves that echoed within him. Folken did understand what it was like, for his life and his world were consumed with it. Faced with her agony that was so much his own, he finally moved to embrace her, pulling the pain closer to him. He had never stopped to wonder when or how she had ceased being a tool and had become a naturally overlooked part of himself. She slipped her arms around him but he could feel the tension in her body. He put a hand against her head as before and she relaxed somewhat. The blue of her eyes induced uncommon graciousness. "Do you wish for sleep?" he offered.

Not ungrateful for that which was within his power to grant, she shook her head. "Sleep, awake, it makes no difference. The visions are just as vivid. You do not know how it's like. I just…" Sora broke off and held him closer before looking back up. "I just wish you would let the pain go away."

"My pain," he declared, "will cease along with all of Gaia. Not even you will be able to see any when this world is freed." His fingers wandered, found and began undoing the thick white rope of her hair that her cats had braided. "Soon, there will be an end to this suffering, all of it."

As she looked up at him, a small part of her meditated on the paradox embodied by the two different colours of his eyes. If she could name them, the gold one belonged to Dune, the last remaining physical marker – even the piercings on his ears had long since closed - of the person he once was: the too sensitive young man who had agonizingly transfigured himself into a destroyer of nations. His goal of peace through obliteration spiralled in duality, as did his depression giving birth to continuous death. Yet, his words were a comfort for her tortured mind, his conviction worthy of adulation though his logic perverse. The paradox was no longer just his, and had not been for a long time. She could not think of a safer place than in the lethal arms of her wingless dragon.

"An end," she repeated, absorbing his calm. "All of it…?"

"I promise."

It was a confirmation with more meaning and sincerity than any declaration of affection that she would never receive from a man who knew too little of positive emotions. Above the perpetual sadness, she presently felt more love than hate for him. She felt a light wind brush her face and his fingers stopped threading her hair. The dim sense of her relief filled him with the unity of his purpose. Gazing down at her with this heady intoxication, her eyes reminded him of some ephemeral understanding.

_So I have doomed what sky that is left to me_. Folken knew better than to dwell on the unintelligible mixture of emotions that accompanied his thought, so he let the thought itself hint at the nothingness, the purity that would be when his goal was achieved. A smirk slowly spread across his features. He did not notice Sora shiver at the sight of it, only the vision of the sky in her eyes darkening.

"Please don't smile," she whispered, guessing at the horrifying change in his mind. At the centre of the vacuum she perceived there she could hear him crying, crying harder than she had thought possible. The mutual reprieve of moments ago was lost. "Don't…"

"Just a little longer," he said hoarsely, and she could not tell if he was saying it for her benefit or his own, even though he was staring directly at her.

She brought her legs beneath her and sat straighter to be closer to his face, even though it was impossible to reach him now. She let her fingertips rest just barely on the thinly pressed line of his lips. The touch did not stop him from speaking again.

"It will all disappear."

Despite his expression, Folken watched with little amusement as Sora cautiously leaned in to kiss him. He gave no encouragement though his arms remained loosely around her from before. 

_Dune_, she mouthed his name against his motionless lips. It did not matter to her that he would eventually turn away in favour of returning to sleep, or that she would wake in the morning to his mouth massaging the back of her neck. All that mattered was trying to convince him to break the hideous mould of his smile.

_Don't disappear, Dune..._

  
  


* * *

Notes:  
What Sora says in "High Fanelian" (made up jibberish borrowing words from different languages and phonemes that sounded nice to me):   
"En varu nishai sehen…" = "I don't want to see..."  
"Im te-yuni vemanos, Folken-sama." = "I missed you, Lord Folken."  
(It took some getting used to, but now I just love the way she says "Folken-sama." How can he resist?)

Well, that's all for now. I think I've exhausted my muses, or they've exhausted me, I'm not sure which. Thanks for reading.


End file.
